


Geometry Of Magic

by tisfan



Category: Captain America (Movies), Iron Man (Movies), Marvel Cinematic Universe, The Avengers (Marvel Movies)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Hydra Won (Marvel), Alternate Universe - Magic, Alternate Universe - Space, Brainwashing, M/M, Mind Manipulation, Space Battles, Technobabble, Technomage, What if Erskine didn't die?
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-11-28
Updated: 2017-12-01
Packaged: 2019-02-07 21:09:59
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 5
Words: 8,033
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/12849588
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/tisfan/pseuds/tisfan
Summary: Two hundred years of galactic warfare ended with the invention of the REBIRTH Serum. Suddenly, Hydra had access to thousands of super soldiers. When Stark's Iron Legions were likewise corrupted, the FALL of the Galactic Alliance was inevitable.A band of techno-mages have boarded their ship, The AVENGER, with the intent of leaving this galaxy behind and finding a new home ELSEWHERE.Recently broken free from his BRAINWASHING, Winter Soldier James BARNES sets out to join the Avenger's crew and bring them a message... hope... and REBELLION.





	1. Hydra Don't Play Well With Others

**Author's Note:**

  * For [rightsidethru](https://archiveofourown.org/users/rightsidethru/gifts).



> Written for the Fandom Loves Puerto Rico event...
> 
> For this Prompt: The first idea I had was with Tony as a technomage and Bucky as an 'enhanced' soldier who needs help with the arm? Something with a mix of high fantasy and sci-fi type of blending?

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> “Viz,” the armor hovered and then dropped to the floor with a resounding shudder. “What have I told you about talking to strangers?” His faceplate snapped up to reveal an ordinary, human face. Ordinary in the sense that the man’s skin was bronze, with an olive undertone, dark hair that curled over his forehead, and a beard that framed a sensual mouth. The man had rich, dark eyes, and a web of laugh lines at the corners. He was, quite frankly, beautiful.
> 
> “That it shows initiative and human-like curiosity?”
> 
> “Yes, but I think the word I used was ‘don’t.’”

Sergeant Barnes, JB, 107th division Winter Soldier from Sol 5, York, stood in the narrow corridor that connected docking bays 20 through 25 to Hospitality center D. The Avenger had air-sealed on Dock 21 not three hours ago and already Hospitality was frantic. Dozens of ships were requesting permission to launch, some with plans to re-dock on the other side of the station, and some were bound for other planets entirely, forgoing food, trade, water, and in one case, even air, to put some distance between their vessel and Dock 21.

Barnes stopped just before the floor panels changed over from the extendable to the main corridors. “I’m told,” he said, dryly, “by the people fleeing in that direction, that this is where I might find the Technomages.”

Barnes had been through some shit, including being involved in two of the largest planetary wars in the last decade, but even he almost jumped out of his skin when a purple-ish alien flew in through the extendable.

Not like a ship, not docking, but literally, through the wall, yellow cloak flapping in a non-existent breeze, then touched down lightly to the floor. The alien was brilliant purple and wore a sort of fibermesh body suit, along with its ridiculous cloak, and a shiny gem studded the center of its forehead.

“The fuck?” Barnes demanded.

“Oh, I beg your pardon,” the alien said, its basic clear and concise and spoken with a vaguely Old Earth accent. “I was repairing the water purifying system, outside the station. This is our dock, I believe.”

“I’m looking for the technomages,” Barnes said. He did not quaver, babble, or otherwise lose his grip, but it was a close thing.

“Ah, well,” the alien said. “It is unlikely that they will want to be seen. They’re quite busy, you know.”

“So, you’re not one?”

“Oh, no,” the alien said. “I’m called Vision. I am an associate of Mr. Stark’s, a synthesized life-form. Mr. Stark’s… creation, as some would say, along with some unique circumstances.”

“You’re… are you alive?” The alien -- Vision -- looked alive, but the more Barnes stared, the more alien the creature seemed. His skin had a plastic look in some places, metal in others. Eyes that seemed to see everything and adjusted like a tracking computer. That glowing stone in the center of his head.

“It is still being debated, _legally_ , exactly what my status is,” Vision said.

Huh. Well, Barnes knew a bit about that.

A whirr and purr of thrusters, and another figure flew down the corridor; brilliant gold and red. Metallic. Barnes dropped into a defensive crouch, his right arm coming up, finger itching for a trigger that he no longer had. It would have to be blades, if it came to it, and he was an arm down against powered armor. There wasn't much skin could do, in those circumstances.

He was going to die.

“Viz,” the armor hovered and then dropped to the floor with a resounding shudder. “What have I told you about talking to strangers?” His faceplate snapped up to reveal an ordinary, human face. Ordinary in the sense that the man’s skin was bronze, with an olive undertone, dark hair that curled over his forehead, and a beard that framed a sensual mouth. The man had rich, dark eyes, and a web of laugh lines at the corners. He was, quite frankly, beautiful.

“That it shows initiative and human-like curiosity?”

“Yes, but I think the word I used was ‘don’t.’” The man inside the armor gave Barnes a quick once over. “Especially not this sort of stranger. This thing’s Hydra. You want to be careful of them, Viz. They don’t play well with others.” He whirled on Barnes. “Tell Pierce he can blow me.”

“I don’t belong to Pierce anymore,” Barnes said. “I don’t do that anymore. Please. I need your help.”

“Oh, don’t bullshit me, soldier,” the man said. “You think I don’t know my own father’s work when I see it? Genetically altered super soldier. Not Erskine class, no, you look like a second-rate vat job. Vanko? No, no arc-reactor. Must be one of Sarkisian's little toys. Go on, toddle off, wind up soldier, or there won’t be enough of you left to leave a grease stain on the floor.” The weapon in the palm of Stark’s hand, and it had to be Stark, it couldn’t be anyone else, charged up, a repulsor whine the likes of which Barnes hadn’t heard in decades.

“Look, Stark, I can’t tell Director Pierce anything. I’ll be shot on sight,” Barnes said, desperately. “But if you need someone to blow you, I can do that. Just… ten minutes of your time, that’s all I’m asking. I’m dead if I go back. My captain, my squad. We’re all going to die if you don’t help us.”

Stark rolled his eyes. “Yeah, right.”

“I’m not lying.” Barnes licked his lip, slow, gathering courage. “About anything.”

Stark’s gaze dropped to Barnes’ lip, just a flick of interest. “Okay, soldier. You willing to prove it?”

Barnes nodded.

“Viz, take him to quarantine, for now. Then let Wanda know we have a special guest and I need her expertise.”

“This way, soldier,” Vision said. “Follow me.”

Barnes took a deep breath, nodded, and hoped that Vision didn’t plan on taking any more shortcuts through the vacuum of space.

***

Quarantine was a terrifying bottle of a room, a high impact, transparent jar with a pneumatic door, set on top of an airlock. Vision made sure to point that out to him, on the “we’d hate to see anything happen to you, of a permanent nature, so soon in your visit. Our apologies for the inconvenience, but we’ve learned to be cautious.”

There was nothing to look at, once Vision left the room, aside from white walls and glass, and the bits and pieces of the space station he could see out the airlock screen. There was nothing to do. And there was no furniture in the quarantine room.

Barnes stood at parade rest, hands behind his back, hands at the small of his back, and waited. He was good at that. Soldiers were trained to wait on orders. His biolink brought up the relevant information on his retinal display; at current rest, nutrition, and hydration levels, he could remain in position for at least seventeen cycles. Longer if he activated emergency resources. He didn’t; he would give himself at least five hours to see what Stark and his technomages would do, before escalating the process.

Barnes didn’t even hear it when the woman appeared. She was simply not there one moment, and then there. Her fingers crackled with strange, red energy.

“I’m Wanda,” she said, without any fanfare. She swept her hand in front of a control panel near the door and the pneumatics unsealed. Barnes eyed her, the biolink giving trajectory information, analysis of her uniform -- a red long jacket, tight vest, and tighter black pants. Decorative, but also functional. Phased plasma resistant material, ballistic flak jacket, and a shimmery coating that his biolink refused to identify.

“You’re thinking of attacking me. I’d advise against it,” Wanda said. “Don’t look surprised, either. Among my other skills, I can sense your thoughts.”

Barnes nodded, once, still standing at parade rest. “The biolink provides situational analysis.”

“Is it an actual device, or conditioning? Don’t lie. I’ll know if you lie.”

_… they slip the mouthguard between his teeth. He stretches his lips to accommodate it. It’s not worth fighting anymore. Compliance is its own reward… he lays back in the chair and the head gear comes down, electricity already crackling against the temple piece… he doesn’t want to scream. He never wants to scream, but he can’t help it. White hot pain races along his skin, silver stabs of agony. Every breath is squeezed from his body. The memories swirl and race and every moment he’s lived since the previous wipe is recorded, stored, in screaming anguish, and then…_

_“Good morning, soldier.”_

_“Ready to comply.”_

Barnes found himself on his knees, hands squeezing his skull so hard, he thought he was going to break the bones. His jaw ached from grinding his teeth and his eyeballs felt like they were bleeding.

“Wha…”

Wanda, the witch, was against the wall, hand pressed to her mouth in horror.

Rage swelled in him and Barnes was on his feet in a second, using the power that pain and anger gave him. He grabbed her by the throat, mechanical arm whirring with his motions. He lifted. Her feet kicked a few times, helplessly, and her hands went to his wrists. “What did you do?”

Wanda gargled out some incoherent sounds and then the red shimmers of fog appeared between her fingers again and he suddenly couldn’t hold her. His fingers opened against his will, he was pushed back several meters, almost to the inside of the cage again.

“I’m sorry,” Wanda cried, falling to the floor, coughing and choking. “I’m sorry, I didn’t know--”

“Don’t do that again.” Barnes couldn’t decide if he was threatening her, or begging for mercy.

“I have to,” she said, struggling to sit up. “Tony needs me to. I won’t… I won’t touch that again. But I need to see… see what you want. What your intentions are. Can you--”

_“You know me.”_

_“No, I don't!” But he does, doesn’t he? He knows this man, this bleeding man. He hesitates, metal hand fisted, ready to smash the man’s face in, and yet..._  
  
“Bucky. You've known me your whole life. Your name is James Buchanan Barnes.”

_“Shut up!” He needs the man to shut up, needs him to stop talking. Needs him to just die. Why won’t he die? Pierce had sent him to kill this man, this danger to their glorious empire, this threat to the Soldiers. The Captain, he was… no, no, no… static and blur in his head. His orders. His orders. Are to kill this man._

_“I'm not gonna fight you. You're my friend.”_

_“You're my mission. You're my mission!”_

_“Then finish it. Because I'm with you to the end of the line.”_  
  
… Barnes was back on his knees, sobbing uncontrollably. Breath hitched in his lungs and he couldn’t force it out, couldn’t get any oxygen.

“It’s okay,” Wanda was saying. “I’m so sorry. Do you… can I make you sleep? Do you want that?”

Barnes managed a rough nod. He needed the blackness of oblivion, even if only for a few moments. They were his memories, precious and traumatic. He’d recovered them at huge, personal cost. He wasn’t going to give them up. And yet, he hadn’t wanted to relive them. He did so often enough in his nightmares.

“No dreams,” he begged her, and then he was gone, swirling into blackness.


	2. Last, Best Hope for Peace

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> “Hey there, cupcake,” Tony Stark said, looking up from the technogrimoire. “How you feeling?”
> 
> “Like I got run down by a spaceship shaped like a woman,” Barnes said. 
> 
> “Yeah, Wanda has that effect on people,” Stark said. “So, um…”
> 
> Barnes stared at his hands for a moment, one flesh, one metal. The servos whirred as he flexed his fingers, plates sliding to correct for the more elastic movement that flesh provided. “Guess you’ll be wantin’ that blowjob, now.”

“For what it’s worth,” Wanda said, “I think he’s telling the truth.” She was pale and she cupped her elbows, shivering. The session had taken a lot out of her, but she was like Tony. If he implied that she should rest, eat, take care of herself, she’d accuse him of coddling her, or treating her like a child, and she’d just go twice as hard, to prove she could.

“They could be implanted,” Tony said. He stared at the monitor. They’d moved him out of full quarantine; with those sorts of memories, Wanda wouldn’t have any trouble stopping him if she needed to, and she was so attuned to his mind at the moment, she’d tell as soon as he woke.

“I don’t think so,” she said. “I’ve seen implants before, but this had… all the force behind it of real memories, real emotions. He’s in terrible pain.”

Tony scoffed. Everyone was in terrible pain. Universal truth. Everybody hurt. “You can be in pain and still have bad intentions.”

Wanda put her hand on his shoulder; the seeping heat of her magic soothed him, worked under the tension in his muscles. “Thor has seen no ill future for us, but consult with him, if you wish certainty, at certainty’s cost.”

“No, thank you,” Tony said. Thor and Loki were both equally powerful members of his coven, and Thor’s future sight had saved them all more than once, but magic came at a price, and sometimes that price was very high. “I’ll try trusting him on your word.”

Wanda smiled and let her fingers trace a comforting line down his spine. “We’re all behind you, Tony, no matter what you decide. You know that, right?”

“Last, best hope for peace,” Tony said.

***

Barnes woke up and had no idea where he was. Everything was very… white. The walls, the bed he was laying in. Even the chair next to the bed was white.

The person sitting in the chair was wearing white, too. A loose kurta billowed around the man. He was looking at a brilliant gold holodisplay. Symbols that Barnes didn’t understand whirled and flickered around him. Invocations of equations, the whole thing appeared mystical and mathematics at once.

It made everything very… floaty and surreal.

“Hey there, cupcake,” Tony Stark said, looking up from the technogrimoire. “How you feeling?”

“Like I got run down by a spaceship shaped like a woman,” Barnes said.

“Yeah, Wanda has that effect on people,” Stark said. “So, um…”

Barnes stared at his hands for a moment, one flesh, one metal. The servos whirred as he flexed his fingers, plates sliding to correct for the more elastic movement that flesh provided. “Guess you’ll be wantin’ that blowjob, now.”

Tony coughed and the glowing equations vanished into a ring on his finger. “Beg your pardon?”

“For the ten minutes,” Barnes clarified. “Said I would.”

“Not necessary,” Tony said, waving a hand easily.

Barnes slid out of the bed, noting that his armor had been removed by persons unknown and he was clad only in his undersuit of black PPRM. His feet were bare, but the floor wasn’t cold against his skin. He went to his knees in front of Tony, hands on the man’s thighs. “It’s all right,” he said, dropping his voice into a rough purr. “I pay what I owe.”

His hands were on the pant’s tapes when, “Woah, woah, Casanova, slow down.” Which was the same voice, but did not come from the man in front of him. Who was actually not moving at all. Confused, Barnes looked up to see Tony Stark coming in the room from another door. The whole room rippled until Barnes found himself back in the glass containment airlock, with the pneumatic door open. He was laying on a thin pallet that someone had brought in, but everything else was the same, including his armor, untouched. The man who’d been in front of him sizzled in the air and then vanished as well.

“An illusion?” Barnes was shuddering all over, breath coming faster, completely freaking out about how well these people controlled his perception of reality.

“Binarily Augmented Retro Framing,” Tony said. “It has many uses, really, and this is what you’d actually call a secondary process. We use it to examine memories, for the most part. A group-share, so to speak, so that we can all experience the same event. Helps to draw conclusions, especially since no one’s memory is exact, once their emotions pour out into it. Everything is colored by how we feel, things that happen in our past. Taking an event out and letting us all -- You’re letting me ramble, you shouldn’t do that. I will talk your ear off about the process and procedures we use here on the Avenger. My point was, before you just stood there saying nothing -- also, you’re completely doing it again -- is that I was testing you. What would you do in a situation in which I appeared unarmed and defenseless. If you had triggering in your program, surely it would take advantage.”

Barnes swallowed. “You people need t’ stop fuckin’ with my head. I had enough of that shit from Hydra.”

Tony gave him a wry, bitter smile. “Where do you think they got the ability to do that, my friend?”

“Just ‘cause you can doesn’t mean you gotta,” Barnes snapped. “Otherwise, what makes you different from them?”

“The entirety of my life, in a sentence,” Tony said. “Well done. I think I’ll keep you around to deflate my ego. Come, let me feed you, introduce you to the coven, and we can talk about what you think I can do for you. I’ll warn you not to expect too much. My coven will be delighted to tell you the truth, which is, I cause more problems than I solve.”

“Nonsense,” Vision said, floating through the ship’s hull again. “You blame yourself, sir, for what others have done. We all know you had the best intentions.”

Barnes nearly jumped out of his skin, although the sythoid’s sudden appearance didn’t seem to have any noticeable effect on Tony.

“Well, you know what they say about the road to hell, Viz. I know you do, because I’ve said it before. Pay attention. And take this very hungry young man to the galley, while I gather the rest of our friends.”

“Yes, sir,” Vision said. “If you’d care to follow me.”

Barnes watched until Tony was out of sight, then said, “Are you his, like, butler or something?”

Vision’s smile was just a little on the creepy side; like he was trying to be human and didn’t quite know how. It reached his eyes with a maniacal gleam. “I was… once. It’s a long story, and one that I do not care to revisit at this time. This way, please.”

***

“Hey boss,” Clint said. “What’s up with the new guy?”

“Actually, Wanda’s the boss,” Tony protested. “I just pay for everything and design everything, make everyone look cooler.”

“Why is Wanda the boss?” Pietro, Clint’s boyfriend and Wanda’s twin brother, came up on the other side. His silver and ice blue PPRM clashed desperately with Clint’s chosen colors of purple and black. It was enough to give Tony a headache. “And when is it my turn to be the boss?”

“Wanda is boss so I can blame her when everything goes wrong,” Tony said.

“Oh. I don’t want that job,” Pietro said. “I will take better job. Like the one where I get to count all our money.”

By the time the team assembled on the command deck, Tony was surrounded by a riot of clashing colors; the PPRM was good for deflecting attacks, comfortable and eminently customizable. Tony took out a pair of spectral glasses and slid them on. The overwhelming rainbow slid into an easy wash of gray and pastels. The only person whose appearance didn’t change was Barnes; gray and black. Easy on the eyes.

Tony shook that thought away; he was already having trouble with the Soldier. That Barnes’ first instinct on awakening was to provide service in the form of sex… said more about Barnes’ past experiences than anything Wanda had dug up. It was deeply disturbing and Tony would need to tread carefully around him.

Which was not aided at all by the fact that Tony found him out of all reason attractive.

He gave around introductions, foregoing his usual color commentary about everyone’s predilections and bad habits in the interests of saving time, and skipped straight to--

“This is Sgt. Barnes, the new guy,” Tony said, gesturing. “Barnes, you have the floor.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> PPG and PPRM are from Babylon 5
> 
> a PPG is a phased-plasma gun; something that damages human and organics, but can't harm the ship's hull, something that's very important in space-based craft
> 
> PPRM is Phased Plasma Resistant Materials, armor made specifically for stopping PPG fire. Like bullet proof armor, it's not 100% because of the nature of weapons and shielding, which advance in a teeter-totter. In this particular case, PPRM is highly customizable.


	3. Hydra Made a Mistake

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Thor’s brother, a sly and slender young man, looked away from a device where he was apparently either writing a spell or playing a word puzzle game, Barnes couldn’t quite tell. “Ignore him,” Loki said. “He spoils for a fight, and therefore his opinion comes with an inherent amount of violence.”
> 
> “Whereas my brother is all for nonintervention, to the point that we are poised to flee the galaxy rather than fight back against tyranny,” Thor snapped.

Barnes stared. “I thought I w’s makin’ a pitch to you.”

“We’re a team,” Tony said. “No secrets. Secrets have this funny way of showing up later to bite you on the ass. If you become part of our team, even for one mission, then you’re expected to put everything on the table.”

His mouth was utterly dry. He swallowed, trying to work up some spit. That was not what _team_ meant among Hydra’s elite. Barnes had been sent to capture or kill his own men, bring the officers back for trial, and… mostly he’d done that. He followed orders, because that’s what soldiers did. He could tell himself he didn't care about anyone, that only the mission mattered.

Only the mission. No one else mattered... except Steve.

_… with you to the end of the line._

_I’m your friend._

_You’re my mission!_

_Then finish it._

Hydra’d made a mistake.

“Hydra made a mistake,” Barnes said, putting his fists on the table and leaning forward. “The 107th, and subsequent soldier-models were given the serum after their twenty-fifth birthday. Better results.”

“Earlier administration of rebirth serums in teenagers or pre-teens result in the death of the subject, or wildly unpredictable mutations,” Tony murmured, with a brief wave of his hand, indicating the twins, Wanda and Pietro. Interesting. Barnes wouldn’t have pegged their abilities as being mutations, but anything was possible, he supposed. “Later versions were more stable, although a brief experiment with gamma radiation resulted in such subjects as Banner, Ross, and Blonsky. Utterly destructive, deployment of last resort.”

Barnes nodded. “Problem is, they raised us together, a batch job. We were trained, and fed propaganda. But at the same time, even as soldiers-in-training, we were _friends_. Later upgraded with the serum and the Soldier programming, those foundations. Apparently they remained. Hydra’s tested our loyalty many times, maybe they didn’t know. But… turned out that those bonds of loyalty do exist under everything else.”

“Hydra should have never sent me after my own squad. There were other soldiers, closer units. They sent me after my friends, to test the programming.

“It failed.”

“They have failed more than once,” Wanda said, her accent gently lilting. “They have experiments that have gone rogue, units that have turned against them. It is good, there is hope, but it is also rare. My brother and I. You. Tony. But they have hundreds of thousands of successful adaptations. We cannot hope to defeat them.”

“Not just a half dozen of us, no,” Barnes said. “But… look, I captured my entire squad for them, loaded them onto a cryoship and launched them for Azzano before I came back to my right mind. My squad. The 107th.”

“Howling Commandos,” the man dressed in purple said. “The best they have. The elite.”

“Yeah, I know who the 107th is, Clint,” Tony said, rolling his eyes. “Howard was key in development, there.” That was spoken with a heavy dose of bitterness.

“I came to my senses,” Barnes reported. It wasn’t entirely a lie, although there were those handlers and higher ups in the chain of command who might have a compliance reset code, but space was huge. Without a deliberate man-hunt, the chances of running into Zemo or Sarkissian were astronomical. “I know where the cryoship is going. I have coordinates. We could free the entire 107th. It’d be an incredible victory for the Resistance.”

“They would send the Iron Legions after us and we’ll all be dead inside two years,” Clint said.

“Nay,” Thor piped up. “I believe yon Soldier is correct; even the morale of such an accomplishment could raise forces that have been hesitating. Outer Rim worlds might be tempted to join, should we strike such a blow.”

Thor’s brother, a sly and slender young man, looked away from a device where he was apparently either writing a spell or playing a word puzzle game, Barnes couldn’t quite tell. “Ignore him,” Loki said. “He spoils for a fight, and therefore his opinion comes with an inherent amount of violence.”

“Whereas my brother is all for nonintervention, to the point that we are poised to flee the galaxy rather than fight back against tyranny,” Thor snapped.

“Stop it,” Tony said, making a sharp gesture through the air. “We all agreed that the situation seemed hopeless, which is why we were hauling stakes for safer waters. Both so that we could have some semblance of freedom, but also because none of us wanted our talents in enemy hands. But here we have… this thread here. Of hope. This is the end game, here. Do we really want to abandon the galaxy, when we might have saved it?”

“Oh, good speech, my captain,” Clint said, giving a two fingered salute.

“You must always ruin the moment,” Pietro said, putting his arms around Clint and resting his chin on Clint’s shoulder.

“So, tell us the rest of the plan,” Wanda said, directing attention back to Barnes. Barnes wasn’t sure he’d been asking them to save the galaxy; he might have been just as happy to rescue the 107th and to flee Hydra territory. But even Barnes knew himself better than that. Knew Steve better than that. If they could pull off the rescue, get everyone clear from any potential compliance commands; Steve would jump right back into the fight.

Fighting was all Steve knew. Like Thor, he came with an inherent amount of violence.

“The cryoship will have a small crew; pilot and co, a couple of techs. Maybe a dozen operatives; lower tier fighters, not supersoldiers or Iron Legions. Probably.”

“We can handle even soldiers or legions in those numbers,” Thor rumbled.

“The ship itself has heavy phased plasma cannons, as well as mass-drivers,” Barnes reported. “But the ship itself is a brick in space; not very maneuverable. Less so in atmo, but it usually docks with the grav-slides.”

“Well, we have a few tricks for that,” Pietro pointed out.

“We can’t just blow them up,” Barnes said. “The cryopods are good for ejection into space, but they will crack like a bowl of eggs if we just shoot at them. We need to board them.”

“I might have a plan for that,” Tony said. “How are they at repelling gnat clouds?”

“Excuse me?”

“You don’t know what I’m talking about,” Tony surmised. “That’s good. Chances are good, they won’t either. And you can’t effectively fight a thing you’re not aware of.”

“We’ll need to intercept at least six hours from Azzano, because they have long range patrols; if we get into their jurisdiction, all the fancy tricks in the world won’t save us. Even a tank will go down under enough rocks and sticks,” Barnes said. “Intercept point, past --” Tony was already bringing up the starcharts, a brilliant and beautiful three-dimensional holograph that Barnes could touch and flick through with ease. “-- this line, and we’re done. That’s the break point.” He sketched a trace path where he’d predict they’d find the cryoship.

“Slow ship,” Tony said. “We can catch that with a convenient fold or two. Vision?”

“Plotting an intercept.”

“You can fold space?” Barnes had heard rumors, but folding space? That was a hell of an advantage.

“For short distances. It’s more like making an accordion rather than a true fold. The problem is still the energy to mass ratio and--” Tony waved a hand around. “--nevermind, technical details and you don’t care. Still, we can make up this, easily.”

“Course plotted, sir,” Vision said, the jewel set in his forehead glowing, pulsing as if in time to an invisible heart. “Best intercept point is here, the Cinetral quadrant. Time to intercept: twenty-eight ship hours, plus eleven minutes.”

“All right. Everyone get some rest. Get your gear ready, look at the layout of the cryoship. You all know the drill,” Tony said, clapping his hands together.

“Do you have a plan of attack?” Barnes asked.

Tony gave him a sweet smile. “I have a plan. Attack.” He spun on his heel, headed off to… sleep or train or whatever he planned to do in the time remaining, leaving Barnes staring after him with an odd sense of loss.

“No battle plan survives the first meeting of the enemy,” Thor said, clapping Barnes on the shoulder with a hand so heavy that even the enhanced soldier staggered. “Come, I shall show you to a guest berth, where you may be comfortable. Do, come find me, if you wish to train. I should like to have a better gauge of what the enemy will be like.”

Well, that much Barnes was used to; testing his prowess against others. “Sure.”

 


	4. We Know Many Things

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> “You ain’t stupid,” Barnes continued. “I know, you know. Your crew knows. This might be th’ last of our days. Want t’ make a choice of my own, if it’s my time. I chose you.”
> 
> “Oh.” Tony shivered, his entire body breaking out into goose flesh. “Oh. Okay.”
> 
> “Tell me what you know, technomage,” Barnes said. He exhibited some magic of his own, moving from the hatch of Tony’s bunk to kneeling between Tony’s thighs, one hand on Tony’s cheek, gray eyes wide and dark, lips slightly parted.

Tony listened to the thrum of the ship’s core, echoing in his own heartbeat. The arc-reactor that ran the ship was larger, but when he was aboard the Avenger, Tony was almost as much a part of that vessel as he was the vessel that carried around the miniaturized arc-reactor that kept his heart functional and intact.

He rested his elbows on his knees, let him hide his face in his hands. Heaved a deep sigh that seemed to come from the very bottom of his feet. They were all going to die.

One of Wanda’s visions, so long ago. He’d been fighting it, fleeing it, for years, and it was going to happen. All his friends dead, because he couldn’t save them, he couldn’t do enough to save them.

“Hey.”

A soft voice interrupted his thoughts and Tony scrubbed his hands over his face.

“Oh,” he said, looking up to see Barnes leaning in the hatch, pose just a hair too casual to be anything but deliberate. He was letting Tony see him; really see him, not just glance and away, but every line of his body projected interest and sensuality and desire. “Did you want something?” _Oh, well, that’s awkward, lead him right into it, why don’t you, Stark?_

“‘F I ask you somethin’,” Barnes said, “I want you t’ take me serious, an’ know I’m askin’ for something because I want it, and not for any other reasons.”

That was not helping Tony relax at all; Barnes was projecting raw sexuality, and Tony wanted, god, he wanted. It’d been a long time, a long damn time, since he could trust anyone with that sort of intimacy, and was someone he actually wanted. Barnes was… both, and neither. A strange dichotomy, and there wasn’t time to work out the variables.

Tony could have played coy, pretended he didn’t know what Barnes was asking for, brushed him off with awkward incomprehension. And they’d both know it was a ploy, but Tony got the feeling that Barnes would take it, take it as he would take a simple no.

“No games,” Tony said. “Why?”

“Ain’t been able t’ make my own choices for so long, don’t really much know how anymore,” Barnes said, his voice matter of fact. Blunt. Which made it all that more horrible; that his slavery had been so absolute that he couldn’t even manage a sense of rage about it. It just was what it was. “Did what I was told. Killed. Fucked. When, who, how hard. It was all th’ same.”

“Stars,” Tony whispered. “That’s awful.”

“You ain’t stupid,” Barnes continued. “I know, you know. Your crew knows. This might be th’ last of our days. Want t’ make a choice of my own, if it’s my time. I chose you.”

“Oh.” Tony shivered, his entire body breaking out into goose flesh. “Oh. Okay.”

“Tell me what you know, technomage,” Barnes said. He exhibited some magic of his own, moving from the hatch of Tony’s bunk to kneeling between Tony’s thighs, one hand on Tony’s cheek, gray eyes wide and dark, lips slightly parted.

Tony almost laughed; one of his teachers had a wonderful little speech about technomages, and Yinsen would have thought it appropriate to use it in this moment. “Technomages are dreamers, shapers, singers, and makers. We study the mysteries of laser and circuit, crystal and scanner, holographic demons and invocation of equations. These are the tools we employ, and we know many things. The true secrets, the important things. Fourteen words to make someone fall in love with you forever. Seven words to make them go without pain. How to say goodbye to a friend who is dying. How to be poor. How to be rich. How to rediscover dreams when the world has stolen them.”

“Show me,” Barnes whispered.

“Gladly,” Tony replied. And he let his lips touch Barnes’s mouth, eager and light, testing pressure and resistance and the elasticity of his skin.

A spark, a flicker of heat, and then Barnes was devouring him, pushing him backward onto his bunk, his weight a hot comfort.

Tony had been kissed before, thoroughly. Many times. And nothing had ever been like this. Hot and hungry and a hundred percent present in the moment. Barnes didn’t want anything from him, not his father’s name, not his mother’s money. Nothing more than skin between them, the sweet friction, the tumble toward release.

Tony returned his kisses as well as he knew how -- and he hadn’t been joking. Tony knew many things, and the play between lovers was one of those things. He knew tricks with his fingers and tongue that pleased.

Barnes’s tongue swept into his mouth, searching eagerly, and Tony opened up, surrendered to it. Tasted the scorching fire of Barnes’s need, heard the harsh sound of their breath mingled together.

There was time to worry later, Tony decided, committing himself to the moment. The ship, the crew, the galaxy itself narrowed until it contained only two. He was lost to every selfish urge and sexual need that he’d ever had. They could barely stop kissing long enough to strip; the buckles and belts that kept their armor secured took more attention than either of them wanted to spare, until Tony was half mad with the need to get his hands on that skin, absorbed in the scent of the man, the way he moved, the taste of his fingers in Tony’s mouth, the feel of his body, pressed hard over Tony’s.

Barnes’s fingers slid into his hair, holding Tony’s mouth at the precise angle required to drive Tony clean out of his mind with desire. Barnes kissed him like a promise.

His hips rose up without conscious thought, rutting against Barnes’s thigh, his hands went down to cup Barnes’s ass, to feel that muscle there, perfect heart-shaped cheeks.

“Barnes,” Tony said, roughly. “Want--”

“Bucky.”

“Huh?”

“My name. It’s Bucky,” Barn-- Bucky whispered. He nipped at Tony’s throat until Tony rolled his head back to allow him more room to work.

Bucky’s arm slid under Tony’s hips, pulled him closer. His mouth came down on Tony’s again, licking his way inside. Bucky was nothing like gentle; kissing him was like riding a lightning storm, all shattering heat and swirling winds. Tony couldn’t get enough, kissing and touching and writhing against each other.

It was maddening and it was delicious.

Bucky’s hand slid down, traced a line over Tony’s cock, pressed sweetly, stroking up, and then down, and Tony could feel his eyes rolling back in pleasure. He made some sort of noise, a helpless, mewling little kitten of a sound, and Bucky swallowed it down.

Bucky tugged and yanked at fabric and finally, finally, they were naked against each other, and Tony thought it was possible that he might have been born just for this moment. Then all such romantic drivel faded and Tony was only aware that he might actually die if Bucky stopped moving his hand in that delicious arc.

At some point, Tony became aware that Bucky was shoving him up, onto the bed properly, and that he was rooting around one-handed in Tony’s bunkdrawer. “Tell me you got slick in here,” Bucky said.

Tony almost lost the thread entirely; he knew Bucky had a prosthetic arm, had seen those metal fingers, heard the servos, but he was actually getting to look at it, and it was absolutely the most beautiful thing he’d ever seen. Plated and silvery, strong and dexterous, woven with wire and fiber and servos underneath. A thing of deadly wonder.

“What? Oh, yeah. Um…” Tony tore his gaze away from Bucky’s arm. “Look, I need…”

“Anything you need,” Bucky promised.

“On top. I need--” He took hold of Bucky’s chin, directed the man’s gaze down to the arc-reactor, glowing soft and blue, throbbing in time with the ship’s engine.

“Oh.” Bucky raised an eyebrow. “Can I?”

Tony nodded, pulse a rapid tattoo in his throat. No one ever touched the arc-reactor. Even the few lovers he’d taken were repulsed by its alienness.

Bucky touched it with gentle fingers, the metal of his hand seeming exactly right, absolutely perfect, a thin, ringing sound. “It’s beautiful.”

“It… um, presses on my lungs, if --”

He didn’t need to say anything more, because Bucky was nodding his understanding. “Lemme get you ready,” he said, then--

Tony was already spreading his legs, anticipation a molten shiver through him. He’d expected a lubed finger to coat him, press inside eagerly, but Bucky slithered down until he was sprawled between Tony’s open thighs, opened his mouth and took Tony in. He licked at the head of Tony’s cock, then sucked him in, head and then shaft until Tony was buried in that luxurious, wet heat.

Lost in the sensations of Bucky’s mouth, Tony almost missed when Bucky breached him.

Almost.

He cried out, thrust up into Bucky’s mouth, until Bucky pinned him in place with that metal arm, sliding a finger in and out of his ass, fucking Tony with his finger, sucking him down into his throat. Bucky was making all sorts of glorious little sounds, humming and moaning around Tony’s dick, as if it was the best thing he’d ever had in his mouth.

Another finger, then a third, and Tony felt a crisis shudder through him. He wanted, oh, _stars_ , he wanted to come, but if he rushed this moment, he wouldn’t have the delicious sensation of climaxing around Bucky’s dick.

“Come on, come on, I’m ready.”

Tony tugged Bucky up, kissed him again, tasted the tang of his own skin and precome in Bucky’s mouth. Wrapped his legs around Bucky’s waist and rolled them over. Tony ended up sprawled across Bucky’s chest, staring down into that lovely face.

“Why’d they make you a soldier, sweetheart? There were so many other things you could have been, face like an angel, hands as sweet as sin.”

His cock was pulsing, throbbing with need, and Bucky only smiled as Tony mounted him.

“You could help,” Tony complained, rocking back and missing his mark. Bucky reached down, held his dick still for Tony to catch, and get himself seated. Hands on Bucky’s chest to hold himself steady, Tony lowered himself, one glorious centimeter at a time until he was nestled down, thighs clenching over Bucky’s hips.

“So tight,” Bucky murmured, staring up at him, eyes glazed in pleasure.

Bucky rocked up into him, jolting that place inside Tony that made him weak with need. Not weak, he thought suddenly, but strong. Stronger because of his want. Because of everything he’d been through and everything he’d seen, and that he could still find desire in the arms of a lover, still want to please them, and that was strength. Stronger because he trusted his body, trusted Bucky to bring him pleasure and he welcomed it.

He let himself fall into the rhythm that Bucky set, steady and fierce, rolling his hips with it, aching every time Bucky nailed his prostate. Bucky was huge, thick and long, and oh, stars, it reached so deep inside Tony. Tony was moaning continuously as Bucky stroked him.

“You are wild,” Bucky said, admiring. His voice was slurred with wanting. “You’re so hot around me, baby. Hot an’ tight, and--”

Tony couldn’t resist that beguiling mouth, leaned down to taste Bucky’s lips, and the change of angle did something to both of them. Bucky slid a hand around the back of Tony’s neck and brought him down, tongue fucking into his mouth as he fucked up into Tony’s body, rubbing exactly right until they were both crying out, a moment of perfection. Perfect union, perfect harmony, a perfect equation. _Perfect._

When Tony finished, spill hot and wet over Bucky’s chest, he was sated, but not satisfied. He was never going to have enough. Strange. In that moment, that blissful, sweet moment, he thought maybe he’d given himself over completely, that Bucky owned him now, until his heart stopped beating. Drivel.

“What words?”

“Huh?”

“The fourteen words, to make someone fall in love,” Bucky said, running his hand soothingly down Tony’s flank.

Tony propped himself up on one elbow. “The first one… is ‘hello’.”

Bucky smiled, sweet. “Hello.”


	5. Cognitive Recalibration

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> “Stark, we have reached the ship’s contro--” Thor’s voice broke off suddenly in a shattering sound of violence.
> 
> Loki was shouting over the coms, incomprehensible. The entire ship shuddered, the lights flickered.
> 
> “We got company in C&C,” Bucky told Wanda and Viz. “Come on, the brothers need reinforcements.”

“I know you keep saying it’s tech, but damn,” Clint said, looking down at the arms of his shiny new combat suit. “Looks like magic to me.”

“It’s a simple fabrication,” Tony scoffed, his voice in Bucky’s ear through the comunit installed in the suit’s helmet. “I twigged the specs a little to personalize; not like I don’t outfit all of you anyway. Had to push the fabricators into overdrive a little, so try not to turn too sharp.”

“The seals will hold?” Clint asked. He was peering down the back and legs of his combat space suit, done in purple and black to match his regular armor, and he looked quite shiny against the blackness of space.

“Stop worrying, Bow-regard, everything’ll be fine,” Tony said. “If something goes wrong, it’s not going to be my engineering.”

“There are so many other things to worry about,” Vision pointed out. He didn’t have a suit of his own, but the synthoid didn’t breathe, or suffer explosive decompression in the vacuum of space. Bucky wasn’t quite sure he envied the ability or not; he hadn’t found out if there were drawbacks to Vision’s physiology.

“Thanks for that,” Wanda responded. She was also without a suit, a globe of glowing red energy surrounded her like some sort of high-tech child’s soap bubble.

“I have got our target on incoming,” Pietro reported. He was still aboard the Avenger, preparing the hyperspace net that would snag the cryoship and drag it to a halt, hopefully in a reachable range to the boarding party. Once the cryoship was still, Loki and Thor would use Loki’s teleportation rings to board as well, and the fight would be on, in earnest.

Assuming that the hyperspace net worked.

Bucky’d seen ships halted before; but usually it was a hyperspace dust cloud; and it destroyed the ship and everything on it. Moving at greater than light speeds did not allow for safe crashes. Collision with any object was deadly. That’s what the deflector array was _for_.

“Activating net,” Tony said. “I’m bringing the party to you.”

There was no sound when the cryoship suddenly appeared in front of them.

Bucky huffed out a mouthful of air. “I don’t see how this is a party,” he said, activating suit thrusters.

The formation of a new gravity well in the area drew the boarders toward the cryoship with only minimal direction from their thrusters. Magnetic clamps onto the hull vibrated through the space-worthy steel. Bucky activated the suit’s oxy-seal. Trying to vent the atmo from the cryoship would clear their path, but could lead to someone deciding to space the soldier pods, just to be a dick. It was what Bucky would have done, curse them. Without the vents, boarders were harder to find.

The seal was sticky, almost wet, even through the advanced flight suit. It clung like glue, or heavy fabric. Yuck. Bucky cut through the hull as fast as he could. He just needed a hole he could slip into.

He vented atmo into the seal, filling it.

“I got company,” Clint was saying, and then Bucky’s comunit was filled with the sound of phased plasma gunfire, whines and whizzes. Shouting, and screaming. Space might be silent, but inside a ship was fucking crowded. The narrow corridors made for bad ambush spots; Wanda and Vision were pinned down in a corner, and rather than trying to figure out how to get down to them, Bucky just blasted a hole in the floor and dropped into a pile of Hydra goons, killing anyone in green with extreme prejudice.

Vision’s mind-beam, a brilliant yellow slash of fire across the corridor, cut off most of the reinforcements, long enough for Wanda to slam them from side to side, breaking bones and skulls against the unrelenting walls of the ship.

By the time their way was clear, the Hydra soldiers looked like sad and broken toys that had been abused and left scattered and forgotten.

“Stark, we have reached the ship’s contro--” Thor’s voice broke off suddenly in a shattering sound of violence.

Loki was shouting over the coms, incomprehensible. The entire ship shuddered, the lights flickered.

“We got company in C&C,” Bucky told Wanda and Viz. “Come on, the brothers need reinforcements.”

It was annoyingly difficult to keep up with fighters who could fly; the ship’s gravity was fluxing, and Bucky had to activate his mag-boots; the suit could fly, through space, but Bucky’s control wasn’t that finely tuned. Wanda and Viz rapidly outstripped him.

Wanda got to C&C first, reported Thor and Loki were both down, alive, but incapacitated. A flicker of black in Bucky’s peripheral vision. He turned, combat blade humming to live, just in time to keep a woman from taking his head off; she got a monofiliment wire around his neck and yanked, cutting through the steel of his suit in moments.

He bucked, threw her around, and she stuck to him like she was magnetized.

Bucky managed to get the blade up, against the suit’s neck. “Emergency release!”

The suit fell to pieces around him. His blade cut her wire.

“Widow! We got a Black Widow on board,” Bucky yelled, hoping someone heard him, now that he was off coms.

“Don’t move,” Bucky told her. She looked familiar, red hair and brilliant eyes. One of the Widows he’d trained, maybe? The Red Room program was costly, but the Widows were among the elite operatives. “I don’t want to hurt you.”

“I wouldn’t worry about it,” she said, jerking her head to one side to avoid his opening salvo.

Bucky had fought elite SHIELD agents, he’d taken down units of Xandar mercenaries, and he and his Captain had gone a few rounds before his conditioning broke, and he’d never fought anyone like the Widow. A whirlwind of ferocity, her moves passionless but brutal. He took a near stunning blow to the head, and was laying, dazed, on the floor, waiting for her to cast the finishing strike, when someone tapped her on the shoulder.

“Hey, Nat,” Clint said. When she turned, he punched her in the face. “Cognitive recalibration,” he said by way of explanation when she went down on the deck, motionless.

“You know her?”

“Yeah,” Clint said. He lifted the woman into his arms like she was his newly betrothed bride. “Tried to recruit her a few times. Maybe this time it’ll stick.”

“You can’t carry her and fight,” Bucky protested, tagging along, even though Clint was going the wrong way, toward medical and the cryopods, rather than C&C.

“Wanda’s got the Odinsons,” Clint said. “This little tidbit of nothing in my arms here took ‘em down, both of them. So, if you don’t mind, I’d like to stuff her ass in an icecube tray before she _wakes up_.”

“Oh,” Bucky said. “So…”

“We won,” Tony said having hijacked the ship’s com systems, his voice coming out of the ceiling. Made Bucky feel all… protected. Watched over. Warm. He grinned at the nearest camera, hoping Tony would see him. “Congrats, Neutralino. We rescued your buddies. So I hope you have something in mind to wake them up, all non-hostile-like.”

“They were headed back to Azzano for reprogramming, and/or execution,” Bucky said. “Pretty sure I just have to smile and Steve’ll do the rest.” _To the end of the line._

“Well, I know I’d do just about anything for that smile, so, maybe it’ll work on Captain Popsicle.”

And there were the pods, brilliant and shiny white, each one holding a suspended soldier in a perfect, frozen moment. Bucky went straight to Steve’s pod, hand going up to wipe the condensation free from the viewportal. “Hey, pal,” he said, to the sleeping soldier. He punched in the unlock and defreeze sequence. “Told you… I’ll always finish the mission.”

With a thick, strangled gasp, Steve Rogers opened his eyes.

“Bucky?”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So, thanks for reading.
> 
> Thanks for Rightsidethru for asking for this delightful little mashup... 
> 
> Yes, I know I kinda ended on a... so what happens next?! note. The basic A plot (Bucky needs help to rescue his friends) and the B plot (Bucky and Tony are interested in a sexual relationship) were presented and resolved. There's obviously a LOT more than I can do with this AU. I'm envisioning this piece as a pilot episode for a tv-show that gets you introduced to the main characters and then... the whole first season would involve the "what happens next."
> 
> So!! Here's where you come in. This fic was written as part of the Fandom Loves Puerto Rico auction. Puerto Rico is still without power in some areas, there's a lack of medical aid and reliable transport; just because the storm is over, doesn't mean that people don't still need help.
> 
> If this is an AU that you're interested in, I will write more for continued donations to PR. You can still donate [here](http://www.conprmetidos.org/) and for each verified donation (send a copy of your receipt with personal and financial information blacked out) to me via [tumblr](https://tisfan.tumblr.com/) and for every $30 donated, I will write another "episode" similar to this one. (these can be across several donors... or someone could donate $90 and buy three episodes at once, etc)
> 
> Episodes will appear no more often than monthly and I will announce (if any) more eps have been paid for, as well as if I cancel this offer because I am buried under your generosity. (which would be awesome! and you're wonderful! But I still have to sleep!)
> 
> Other episodes that I have basic ideas for:
> 
> The Avengers, having taken on a whole ship full of brainwashed supersoldiers, need somewhere to hide, and a way to unbrainwash people. (In the meanwhile, Wanda and Vision have to work on their communication skills)
> 
> Pirates attack! (And Steve's brainwashing is problematic!)
> 
> Repairs on a backwater planet. (Oh, Tony's ex is there to cause problems!)
> 
> etc... anyway, feel free to contact me here through comments or on tumblr for more information!

**Author's Note:**

> Some of this fic is a remix of various science fiction movies and shows, including Babylon 5, Firefly, and Star Wars.


End file.
